The Bear of Wolftown
by Lingua-seele
Summary: This is a character backstory I did for a Solar Exalted campaign. As everyone seems to put disclaimers on their work, let it be known that I do not own White Wolf, Exalted, the Solar Exalted, or the Abyssal Exalted. In order to hopefully make some of th


_**The Bear of Wolftown**_

Junaluska knelt in silence, sniffed the forest's crisp noonday air. It was autumn, and despite the sunlight, a chill lingered. The trees loomed above—evergreens, mostly, dotted with maples and other deciduous seasonals. June sniffed again, and there it was—the scent of his would-be prey. The buck was on old one, quite formidable with its 10-point rack, but June knew its age would betray it.

Junaluska felt his calves tense in anticipation; felt his heart beat out the ancient hunting rhythm in his chest. In perfect synchronicity, both man and beast broke cover. "Here comes the fun part," June thought as he stretched his legs, matching the buck stride for stride. Running the big animal down was a simple matter. It was the deer that had always been June's racing companions as he grew up. Putting them to rest was the challenge.

Skirting the brambles with dexterous purpose, June lashed out a hand for the animal's neck—and missed. The buck turned right, slinging its antlers around a tree as it passed. The tree was scarred. June placed his fingers in the grooves as he ran by. "Deep," he thought, "and that easily could've been my stomach."

The chase went on until they reached the border of the great wood. There the ground leveled and flattened, and the foliage grew sparse. "The crucial point," June thought, as he quickened his pursuit. Junaluska knew that they were now approaching Galunladi—the sky gorge. It was here, it seemed, that mother earth opened her mighty hands and reached toward sister sky.

The buck, ignorant of its location, dashed toward the ever-narrowing cliff. It turned when it could go no further. Junaluska squared himself on the earth—spread his legs, bent his knees, and raised his arms to his sides. His deerskin boots scuffed the dust. The buck stared at him, eyes wild with fear and rage. It snorted and pawed the ground. Then it charged.

"You've made this easy on me, old friend. Many thanks," June cried as he leapt toward the beast. Grabbing the antlers in mid-flight, June used their leverage to pull himself atop the animal's head. Dashing over it, he sprung into the air, still firmly grasping the antlers. The buck's front paws lifted from the ground as it found itself back-to-back with June—parallel in the air. June completed the throw then, hurling the buck over his head and slamming it to the ground. Its neck and back broken, the buck breathed no more.

Staring at the empty-eyed beast, Junaluska was overcome with great sadness. He mourned the passing of his brother and thanked its spirit for being gracious to him. He sprinkled tobacco from his pouch over the body and also burned some in a fire. This aided the spirit's passage to the real Galunladi. Then June began to carve up the beast. The pelt would make another set of clothes, at least—his current ones were wearing rather thin. The meat, properly cooked and dried, would last for a while as well. Out of the sinews he fashioned some rope for later use in stringing bows or fishing. June missed his village. There had been a time when he thought killing a buck for a single man was absurd. There should have been a hunting party. There should have been craftsmen—people more adept at making rope, bows, arrows, armor, medicines and the like. There should have been a shaman to thank the creature and bless the ceremony of the hunt. Now, though, June was all alone.

It had all started on a day much like this one. The air was cool and crisp. It bore the foreboding of winter, but still had not completely relinquished the comfort of summer's warmth. The village thronged with activity and preparations for the coming festival. It was the celebration of Guh-li—the raccoon. Time for one last bit of merriment and carefree living before winter rations began. June had been painting a mask in his house when the commotion started. "Junaluska!" His mother yelled as she entered the lodge, "have you heard? There is some sort of gathering on the edge of the village. It seems a hunting party from far away has appeared…" "Really," June began, "so they rode in this morning, did they?" "Not exactly," Ae-ji replied. "I said they appeared; as if they had materialized from the very mist. They seem a bit disoriented at the moment. All they do is stare vacantly…all but the one wearing with the smooth stone skin. He sits with his eyes closed and does not move." "Odd," June noted. "Perhaps I shall go and join the welcoming party. This is a time for merriment, after all. Maybe all the solemn hunters need is some good beanbread to loosen their tongues."  
June strode leisurely to the edge of Wayohi where the visitors were reported to have appeared. He carried his pouch of tobacco, a flask of water, and some beanbread to offer the company. As he approached, he saw a group of his people circling the new arrivals. One of them turned and the circle parted. "Yona," they intoned. (Because of his wrestling prowess and tenacity in the ball game, the villagers often called June "Bear") "Perhaps now we'll make some proper sense out of all this." Maintaining his pace, June arrived before the black-armored figure, who, until this moment, had been as motionless as his empty-eyed compatriots. The dark one opened his eyes now, and rose to his feet. His faded, icy blue eyes seemed to bear into June, and for a moment the air stood pregnant with silence. The dark one spoke. "Greetings to you, Yona of Wayohi." The deep, monotone voice reverberated around the circle. June felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and noted a pang in his stomach at the simple greeting. "I am Lord Travarius, carrier of the dark candle." June stood, confused at the paradoxical reference. "You are confused," said Travarius. "Have you never pondered, then, the futility of a candle's blaze against the might and majesty of the sun?" Travarius's tone lowered as he spoke. June leaned closer in order to hear. "The flame is all but invisible, you see," continued Travarius. "The only way to see it would be to have a flame which eliminated a portion of the sun's light. Just as the light of the sun prevails over this world, plaguing the darkness that reigns in the night, so too does life plague the darkness of death. And it is time that the light was made to pay." "Why tell me all this?" June asked. "Bring your dark crusade elsewhere, and let our village be. Elsewise you'll see why the night and the winter are glad that the bear requires time to slumber." June cracked his knuckles and spread his legs to shoulder-length. He lifted his head in defiant challenge. "Very well, son of Sol," the dark one spoke as he hefted his glimmering black-hilted blade, "The justice of the dark shall be bought here with your blood."

Travarius heaved the blade over his head, preparing to cleave it through Junaluska. June's hair-trigger muscles snapped and launched him into his opponent's midsection. The dark one staggered but stood his ground. June collided heavily with Travarius's armor as Travarius struck him with the ebony-hued handle of his broadsword. June took the impact to the head and sunk to the ground. "Go," Travarius commanded his empty-eyed compatriots. "Destroy everything."

The death-like warriors' eyes lit up at the sound of their master's voice. They went an eerie crimson as the thralls surged forward into the village. Blades flashed at the copper-toned throats of Wayohi's natives. The village's strongest warriors ran to engage the thralls in combat, but amidst the chaotic melee their efforts were to no avail. Spears met with sickening "shunk" sounds as they plunged into the death-warriors' flesh, only to be broken off by the warriors' hands, a richtus grin plastered to their ivory-colored faces.

June awoke within a few minutes, still at Travarius's feet. He turned to see the black-armored soldiers wiping out his people. Suddenly, the air became still. June's vision seemed to zoom back to the home he had shared with his mother and father for all his 20 years. In slow motion he saw his father swing his club at the death warrior. The mighty weapon glanced off the warrior's shoulder, the blow's backlash sending his father sprawling. His mother dove to protect her fallen husband, catching the point of the blade as it sunk through both their bodies. Without warning the wind began to blow violently. June rose to his feet. He felt the war drums deep within him. "Noooooooooooooo!!!!!!!" He screamed, turning his head to the heavens. The wind echoed his howl as it whipped through the tree leaves.

"How…DARE…YOU!!!!!!" June wailed. A brilliant light flashed behind him then, another wail joined his chorus. This one, however, was more like a monstrous roar. The villagers, startled out of their chaos, turned to the sky. "Yona!!!" They cried, as the giant glowing outline of a bear reared on its hind legs and roared into the sky.

In his rage, June noticed little but the spear on the ground near a fallen warrior. He coiled his leg muscles as he bent to grab it. Travarius loomed above him then, ready to finish what he had started earlier—this time with the blade. As the sword came down Junaluska leapt once more. The sword split the spear's shaft in two as June dove at it into the air. Somersaulting over Travarius's head, June heard the sword sink into the ground as he landed on his feet behind the dark one. Quick as lightning though, Travarius slung the sword, one handed, horizontally through the air. June jumped just in time and landed two shots to Travarius's head with the pieces of spear. Flipping the bladed end in his right hand, June drove it home, all the way through the warrior's plate mail. Travarius stepped back. Planting his sword in the ground, the dark one laughed. June saw the blade disappear, submerging itself completely into the dark armor. Travarius scowled at him, a bead of sweat running down his unnaturally pale cheek. "So we've stopped hiding now, have we Sol-kind? No matter. The dark shall still see you laid to rest." With this the blade vanished and Travarius began to move with an unnatural speed toward June. His shadow silhouetted his movements as he swept toward June and hurled him to the ground. As June lay on his back he saw the dark blade coming down for him once again—this time from 10 feet in the sky. He rolled away seconds before the blade imbedded itself in his chest. Springing to his feet, he felt a searing pain across his back. June whirled yet saw no one. Travarius laughed again. "How adorable. The light is disconcerted by tricks of the shadows. How about this trick?" June reeled as he felt invisible blades raking across his flesh. He wailed as the red gashes opened up all over his body. Closing his eyes he tried to filter out the veil of red that threatened to envelop him. He focused on the bear. He saw the animal as it reared before its prey; as it brought its massive paws and weight down upon it. Suddenly June was holding a club. As he brought the blunt weapon down toward his opponent's head, he heard the bear's roar once again. His wounds sizzled with pain as his muscles delivered the blow. A bright flash punctuated the impact. And Travarius hit the ground. June stood; drawing his breath in quick bursts, sweat pouring off his body. The salt hit the open wounds and intensified the pain. The battle in the village raged on. June watched, helpless as he waited for any strength to return. As he watched the battle June did not see the black armor sinking into the shadows. He did not see Travarius appear behind him. He only felt it as the broadsword sunk through his left shoulder, cracking his clavicle and burying itself only a few inches above his heart. June fell.

Blood stained the ground of Wayohi. Its greatest warrior lay at the perimeter of the village in a crimson pool. Travarius summoned his undead warriors back to his side. Their eyes went dark once again as their bodies stiffened. "Pathetic," he said. "Hardly worth the effort." The forest's shadows rose to encompass the party and it vanished.

Tears of physical and emotional agony streamed from June's eyes the moment he came to. He could feel every muscle tense with red-hot pain. Too beaten to walk, June dragged himself with his arms to wear his dead parents lay. He sat there in the catharsis of oblivion, wondering why the blow had not killed him, and wishing it had. Then at least, he would be with his people again. As far as June could see, he was the only survivor of Wayohi. "M-m-must… get…up." June thought. His legs protested as the gritty dirt came into contact with the bloody gashes. He stumbled back, prostrating himself before the bittersweet agony. He tasted blood—and swallowed. Rising once again to his knee, June gritted his teeth and bore the pain. He rose, never really knowing why he even cared to move, and limped to the edge of the woods.

The bear had found him on his stomach again, dazed and hungry, about a mile from Wayohi. There was no accounting for the time in between his leaving and passing out again. In desperation upon waking, June had grabbed its paw. He began speaking incoherently to it, grasping at its matted fur as he lay in the dead grass. His words took on a pleading tone, and for whatever reason, the bear took pity. From beyond the foliage it dragged 3 fish and passed one to June. With little regard to ceremony or cleanliness, June devoured as much of the animal as he could. As soon as he was able, he thanked the bear for its kindness. Unimpressed, the bear lumbered away to the forest. "Ogidoda spared me for a purpose," June thought. "However, until I find out what that purpose is, I will make my own. I choose that my purpose shall be to hunt down that accursed dark one and show him the meaning of winter." Junaluska sighed and began work on his fire.

Sitting on the cliff's mighty precipice, June continued working on the fallen buck. It had been difficult, these past few moons; difficult to keep alive, difficult to put his mind off his fallen family and friends. Difficult not to see, every time he closed his eyes, the face of the black warrior—not to feel the crushing blow of his mighty blade. Inexplicably, June's wounds had healed at an astonishing pace. With a bit of food and rest, he had been able to rise and begin moving. That was all that drove him now—moving. He thought if he just kept running, someday he might escape the nightmares; might escape the screams of his people. Some day, if he honed his might in the wild, some day if he ran until his feet could carry him no longer, perhaps he would stop before the village of the dark one. And some day, just perhaps, he would kill the dark one where he slept.

June collected the goods the buck had yielded. He rose and stretched. The sun set in the distance. Entering the woods, he treaded silently. Spotting the two lumbering forms in his peripheral vision, June paid the other hunters no mind. Striding through the trees, the bears loped beside him. "Tomorrow is a new day," he thought, "but tonight…tonight we move on."


End file.
